


Let’s Begin

by Megalovanilize



Series: Wingfics with the Pirate Edgelord [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Flashbacks, Handcuffs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Safeword Use, Safewords, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21959026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalovanilize/pseuds/Megalovanilize
Summary: Just when Sylas is finally starting to open up and let his Captain take the lead, his old memories come back to haunt him. Nightmares of the Silver Flame- the cult that murdered his entire race- are plaguing him at the worst possible time.Just breathe, Sylas. Just breathe.(Can be read as a stand-alone, but it’s better to read Trapped first.)
Relationships: Captain Morgan Appendix Germaine/Sylas Delacour, Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s), Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Wingfics with the Pirate Edgelord [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580800
Kudos: 7





	Let’s Begin

When Germaine had suggested they try something different in the bedroom, the last thing Sylas had been expecting was a role reversal. He’d been under the impression that they were both perfectly happy with their current arrangement, and didn’t see any need to change it. However, once Germaine had explained it to him, he’d been more on-board: it was about trust, about giving yourself over to your partner and knowing that they would take care of you. Sylas could sit back and let Germaine handle everything, not worry about a thing, just enjoy himself. 

He didn’t particularly see the appeal, but he couldn’t imagine it being the worst thing in the world, especially since Germaine would be orchestrating it. His captain knew what they both liked, and Sylas had full confidence that he’d put extensive thought into the matter. Which is why the next time he was invited into the Captain’s quarters, he approached the door with a sort of curious excitement instead of his usual confident surety. Stopping just before the entrance, he knocked first, as was custom: three strong hits against the oak. 

“Come in,” Germaine’s voice floated out, seeming no different from usual. It was only when Sylas stepped inside, closing the door behind him, that it was apparent anything had changed. Sitting in his desk chair facing the door, legs crossed, head resting on his arms, Germaine was looking much more sure of himself than normal. Almost-electric blue eyes raked over him as he entered, their owner standing and brushing nonexistent dirt off his coat. Drama queen. Not that Sylas had any room to talk.

“Prompt as always; nice to see you,” Germaine began, clapping his hands together. Really, Morgan? Small talk? They were past this. Sylas simply nodded respectfully, taking a few steps into the room before clasping his hands together behind his back and standing at attention. Germaine sighed at his lack of response, lowering his hands and cocking an eyebrow. “So it’s like that, is it? Fine, we’ll get right into it. Strip for me.” Wow, he wasn’t kidding about getting right into it. Alright, Sylas could work with this. He smirked slightly at his captain but complied, neatly folding his clothes into a pile on the floor as Germaine watched. When he finished he resumed his earlier position; back straight, shoulders squared, ready to take orders. 

“Good, now keep your eyes forward,” Germaine commanded, again flicking his gaze up and down Sylas’ form appreciatively. His eyes continued to roam as he circled the elf, boots clicking on the wood paneling, making his position known. Nice touch- he knew Sylas couldn’t stand not knowing what was behind him. Of course as soon as that thought crossed his mind, Germaine lightly brushed a hand down the sensitive skin between his wings, sending shivers down his spine. He stood corrected; he supposed the anticipation wasn’t the worst thing in the world. All the same, the swish of Germaine’s long coat circling back around to his front was the only thing that kept Sylas from shifting his eyes to track his movements. Then all at once Germaine was smirking in front of him, pressing a hand to Sylas’ chest and leaning in to just  _ barely _ brush his lips before turning his head and speaking into his ear.

“Where do you keep the manacles, love?” Sylas’ eyebrows shot up at the question, attempting to pull back and see Germaine’s face only to be stopped by a hand on his lower back.  _ Oh _ , so  _ that _ was how this was going to work. He paused for a second to consider his options, but what the hell, Morgan seemed to like it when Sylas used them on him. Gods, the things he did for this man. Might as well give it a try. 

“Top drawer to the left,” he replied, readjusting his wings slightly in anticipation. However, he did manage to keep his eyes locked forward and his feet stagnant; he’d never really gotten rid of that army training, had he? At least it was useful for something. He had to hold back a chuckle at the thought of those bastards in Orfalion knowing just what he was using their lessons for; served them right.

“Top drawer to the left,  _ Captain _ ,” Germaine corrected, the hand on Sylas’ chest slipping up to run a thumb over the pulse point in his neck. Well, that got his mind back on track quickly. Maybe Germaine had a point when he’d been talking this up. The tone of his voice promised plenty more to come, and he wasn’t asking too much. Sylas couldn’t help but wonder just what Germaine would do if he disobeyed, refused the title, but decided to leave that for another time. They were both still getting used to their roles, and this was an easy part to play.

“Of course Captain, my apologies,” Sylas amended, still staring straight ahead. He’d begun to shift further into formality, slipping more into their normal routine until Germaine abruptly dragged blunt nails down his chest, stopping just above his dick.  _ Gods _ , what was this man doing to him? Sylas could feel his face growing hotter, taking in a controlled breath in an attempt to keep his composure.

“Good boy,” Germaine whispered, still breathing hot into the shell of his ear; Sylas could feel his cock growing harder by the moment. “Lay on your back on the bed for me, will you darling? I’ll be right back.” As soon as Germaine stepped away Sylas followed his orders, only giving himself a moment to take in a breath before making his way toward the bed. Settling back gently, the mattress just large enough to support his folded wings, Sylas made sure to get comfortable before turning back to watch Germaine rifle around in the drawer. He had a feeling he would be here for a while. 

He couldn’t help staring at Germaine’s body as he moved, even through the layers of clothing he was still for some reason wearing. Disgusting. Who gave him the right to hide all of that under so much fabric? However, Sylas’ attention was diverted the second Germaine turned around holding manacles, oil, and a long strip of fabric.  _ Very _ interesting.

“Full of surprises tonight, aren’t we, Captain?” The only response Sylas received was another smirk as Germaine slipped everything but the manacles- including the key- into his pocket, kicking off his boots before walking back over. He deftly avoided Sylas’ wings as he clambered onto the bed to straddle him, metal grasped in one hand as the other gathered his wrists to pin them to the pillows above his head. Huh. That was new. Gripping just tightly enough to prevent easy escape, Germaine leaned down until they were nearly nose to nose, holding his gaze all the while.

“Darling, may I restrain you?” Flexing his wrists in Germaine’s hold, Sylas nodded, smirking right back at him. Germaine leaned down for a kiss after his response, giving him just a taste of what was to come, pulling back right when Sylas tried to go further. He leaned up and pulled the manacles through part of the headboard, fastening them- in classic Germaine fashion- very carefully around Sylas’ wrists. He studied his work for a moment before looking down at the man beneath him, the mood shifting into something slightly more uncertain. 

“Those feel alright? Not too tight or too loose?” It took a large amount of self control to avoid rolling his eyes, even as he reminded himself that it was a necessary question. Germaine wasn’t completely confident in his role yet, he just needed practice. Rattling the chains just for show, Sylas wasn’t expecting the slight twinge of anxiety that accompanied the motion. Strange- a memory of a memory, perhaps. He shook it off quickly, slipping back into a confident persona as he looked back up at Germaine.

“Feels secure, Captain.” Germaine smiled at the words, quickly shifting to match Sylas’ mood again as he leaned down for another kiss. This time he let it go further, trailing his hands down Sylas’ sides as their tongues collided. He broke it off much sooner than the elf would’ve liked, Sylas letting out an impatient sigh as Germaine once again pulled back. However, he remedied the action by moving to attack Sylas’ neck, nipping at the underside of his jaw as he attempted to leave a mark. At the slight pain Sylas again felt that little spike of uncertainty, something familiar, something unpleasant, but again he shrugged it off. It was Germaine, he would be fine, he just had to get ahold of himself- something that became much easier as he focused on his captain’s lips. Morgan soon moved on, leaving wet kisses all down his chest and thighs before breathing hot and heavy onto his dick.

He kept eye contact as he lazily took the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head before dipping down to take him deeper. Sylas battled to keep his eyes open and watch him; Germaine was always so pretty like this, taking him so easily, adam’s apple bobbing as he sank down to the base. As he pulled away he let his tongue dip into the slit on the end, licking his lips as he watched Sylas gasp in approval. Crawling back up to the elf’s eye level, one hand cradled his jaw as he leaned in for a kiss, letting Sylas taste himself on Germaine’s tongue. He hardly noticed when his captain reached down into his pocket to retrieve something, only realizing what was going on when Germaine pulled back to secure the blindfold over his eyes. Interesting. Ears flicking slightly as Germaine’s hot breath brushed against them, goosebumps shot down Sylas’ neck at the low voice rumbling next to him.

“Is this alright?” Of course he would still be asking. Eh, what the hell, it was endearing. He’d already figured out how to ask without taking them out of the moment, Sylas had to give him credit for that. Nodding in affirmation, he tried once more to grasp the concept of giving up control. It was certainly an interesting sensation, but he wasn't completely sure about it yet. Might as well keep going- see what tricks Germaine had up his sleeves.

“You look stunning like this love, laid out beneath me.” Sylas preened under the attention, tilting his head to the side to further bare his neck to his captain. On second thought, he could get used to this; he could just lay back and revel in the sensation of pleasure, not having to worry about what happened next. Sylas had really started to relax, focusing on the sensations and beginning to enjoy himself wholeheartedly. At least up until Germaine’s next words. “I’m going to have every part of that gorgeous body to myself, wings and all. Your feathers are quite beautiful, you know.” Sylas froze in place, stomach dropping as he finally realized what he’d been forgetting.

_ “Your feathers are quite beautiful, you know.” Sylas’ head snapped back over to his captor, eyes narrowing as the tiefling stared at his wings, watching his minions hack the snow white primaries to pieces. “They’ll look even better blackened to a crisp, but I can appreciate their artistic value.” _

The elf’s eyes slammed shut beneath the fabric, hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to get ahold of himself. It was the dream- the nightmare- he’d had a few weeks ago. The one he’d neglected to tell Germaine the details of, which probably would’ve been good to discuss before letting him chain him down. Gods, he could still feel their hands on his feathers, smell the burned flesh off of Mordai’s mangled face-

No, it was Germaine, he was alright, it would all be alright. Morgan would never hurt him. They were going to fuck and then fall asleep in each other’s arms, no one would hurt him if he let his guard down, everything would be fine. Just focus, Sylas. Focus on what you can feel: the covers beneath you, Germaine’s lips on your skin, your nails digging into your palms, the fabric on your eyes, the slight weight of your captain on your hips. Ground yourself. Everything will be fine.

As much as he’d managed to calm himself down, Germaine’s hands coming to rest on the inside of his wings set him back on edge. The pressure was minimal, akin to the hold he had on Sylas’ wrists when he adjusted the manacles, just enough to let him know they weren’t going anywhere. He got a hold of himself more quickly this time though, pinpointing how different Germaine’s lanky fingers felt from Mordai’s dirty, clawed digits. Come on Sylas, power through it. This was for Morgan, just remember him. It would all be fine. Germaine must have noticed his muscles tense at the contact, gently scratching at the feathers in a motion that usually would’ve been comforting. Unfortunately, he was miles away from the truth when he assumed the meaning of the feeling.

“Eager, are we love? Well, I won’t keep you waiting. Now that everything’s in place, let’s begin.” It was that phrase, those two words, that brought back the most vivid flashback yet. Normally he would’ve been thrilled and intrigued to see what Germaine had in store for him, but now all he could think of was that tiefling’s voice grating in his mind, far too gleeful for the acts he was about to perform.

_ “Anything to say, Angel? No? That’s what I thought. Let’s begin.” The cold metal of the blade bit into his skin- _

Sylas yanked hard at his bonds, wings snapping open and beating furiously against the hands above him as he struggled to get loose. His muscles were coiled like springs, prepared to fight, prepared to flee, prepared to  _ escape _ . As the metal of the manacles bit into his skin, for a split second he was back in that dungeon, about to be tortured, about to die the same way his family did: alone, afraid, at the hands of these  _ monsters- _

“Sylas,” his captain’s voice cut through his memories, snapping him back to the present. “What is it? Are you okay?” Germaine’s concern reminded him of where he was, and that his breathing was gradually speeding up, catching in his chest. He stilled his wings, focusing on controlling his breathing as he returned to his mind. But now that he knew where he was, he remembered that there was a way out.

“Germaine, silver,  _ silver _ , get me out, let me up, I can’t-” The second his safeword left his lips, the pressure was taken off his wings, blindfold ripped away near instantaneously. He always seemed to forget just how fast Germaine could react.

“Shit, I’ve got you, it’s alright, let me just get these off-” As he blinked in the light, he could see Germaine leaning over him, working to unlock the manacles keeping him pinned. The second they were off Sylas sat up, pressing his back to the headboard and scanning the room for threats. His hands tightened in the bed sheets as he tried to regain control of his breathing, pulling his wings in as close as he could to his body. There was no sword, no half-burned tiefling, no chains forced onto his wrists. He was safe, Germaine was here, he was completely free. So why was there still fear and adrenaline coursing through him? Why was he preparing himself for pain beyond imagination? Why couldn’t he breathe?

“Sylas, you’re alright,” Germaine’s voice cut through the chaos, soft tones providing security. “It’s okay, you’re safe. I’m going to touch your hand, alright?” Just as he said, Sylas felt his captain take his hand, firm pressure anchoring him back to reality. He squeezed tightly, needing that contact, needing that knowledge that he was here with him. “That’s it, you got it. Breathe with me, okay Sylas? Just focus.” Germaine’s breaths were loud, steady, and precise, matching the beat tapped out against his hand. Four, seven, eight. Breathe in, hold it, breathe out. Focus. No black robes, no Mordai. Just Germaine. Breathe. 

“There you go, that’s it darling. Come back to me.” Germaine’s voice was soft but encouraging as his breathing slowed, rubbing circles onto his hand with his thumb. “I’m going to touch your hair, okay?” Sylas had the coherency to nod this time, eyes focusing just enough for him to watch Germaine’s hand slowly reach up to his head. The tension only left his body when his captain’s nimble fingers met the silver strands, wings fluttering slightly at the sensation. Only after the world started falling back into place did the anger and guilt begin to set in. Dammit, he ruined it. 

“Sorry,” he awkwardly mumbled, refusing to make eye contact. He at least owed Germaine that much. Morgan had clearly been looking forward to this, and of course he’d had to put a stop to it. He’d tortured people for decades and he couldn’t even handle a pair of handcuffs? Pathetic.

“Hey, no, no apologies,” Germaine quickly interjected, moving closer to him. “Don’t ever be sorry for using your safeword, do you hear me? I want us both to have a great time, I don’t ever want to accidentally hurt or scare you.” Nodding slightly, Sylas brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around himself as he rested his head against his legs. Germaine sighed softly out of his nose, still stroking his hair as he studied his expression. “Can I sit next to you?” Sylas hesitated a moment before wordlessly extending a wing, inviting Germaine into his space. Sneaking a glance out of the corner of his eye, he blushed slightly at the loving smile spreading across his captain’s face. He kept most of his weight off of Sylas’ wings as he moved, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gently resting the opposite hand against Sylas’.

“Are you okay?” Another nod- he would be, anyway. Germaine’s warmth was gradually calming him, slowing his heart rate, steadying his breathing. “Do you want to talk about what happened? You don’t have to.” Sylas sighed as he debated his options, leaning further into Germaine as he thought about his answer. He figured it would be for the best to finally let him know, making up his mind as he turned his hand to grab onto Morgan’s. 

“Remember that nightmare I had last month?” he began, keeping his voice as monotone as he could as he spoke. Waiting for Germaine’s answering nod, he hesitated for one more moment before continuing. “It was about the Silver Flame. They had me pinned down, talking about how they were going to kill me. I was mostly just angry until Mordai showed up with a half burnt face, chained me up, and told me about how he was going to cut off my wings.”

Taking in another deep breath, Sylas forced himself to continue, squeezing Germaine’s hand more tightly in an attempt to hide the shakiness he felt. “He had his lackeys cut the feathers first. He told me they were beautiful, but they’d look better once they were burned… which is why I freaked out a little bit when you complimented me back there.” The last sentence was softer, mumbling into his knees as Germaine squeezed his hand back reassuringly. Sensing his captain had something to say, Sylas plowed on before he had a chance to interject. “Then he circled around behind me with a sword, and I was so  _ scared _ when he started to cut into me. I woke up too soon to really feel it happen, but that’s why I flipped out when I came to. And I know you’re  _ nothing _ like them, but the combination of the chains and some of your wording…” Sylas trailed off, pressing himself closer to the man sitting next to him.

Germaine’s grip on his shoulders tightened ever so slightly, a comforting force throughout the story. “It’s alright, I understand. Now that I know, we can avoid ever making you feel like that again, okay? Thank you for telling me, Sylas. I know it took a lot for you to do it,” Germaine soothed, his thumb smoothing over Sylas’ knuckles as he pressed a kiss to his hair. “I’m just glad you used your safeword, I don’t want you to be worried about continuing just for me, alright?” Sylas nodded, wrapping his wing around the both of them. 

“...Thanks, Germaine,” Sylas finally said, calming down completely. 

“Of course, Sylas.” Gods, what did he do to deserve a man like this? His captain was the best thing that had ever happened to him; he’d give anything to stay like this forever.

“Also…” Oh what the hell, might as well. “We can try that again sometime without the chains, if you’d like.” Tilting his head just to see Morgan’s reaction, Sylas couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face upon seeing the disbelieving half-grin of his captain. Germaine chuckled softly, shaking his head as he gently squeezed Sylas’ shoulders.

“Never a dull moment with you, Sylas.”

“Shut up, you know you love it.”

“I really do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I love writing for these two, they understand each other so well. (Inside joke: the reason Germaine can react so quickly is because he’s got a +30 initiative in game. I have no idea how his player got it that high but we’ve been meming about it ever since.)
> 
> Comments mean the world to me, thank you again for stopping by!


End file.
